


What Tomorrow Will Do

by SaddestLoser



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Smut, M/M, New Year's Eve, New York City, hot cheetos??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-12 18:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaddestLoser/pseuds/SaddestLoser
Summary: “I would have thought you’d say opal for sure.”“Why’s that?”“Not sure, just seems very… you.” He meets Harry’s eyes. “Kind of dreamy, you know? Dream boy.”Harry can feel his cheeks heat up. “I don’t think think that’s exactly what that phrase means.”Zayn smirks, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. “I know what it means.”AU: Harry and Zayn meet on what is probably the worst holiday of the year: New Year's Eve.





	What Tomorrow Will Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hes_kth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hes_kth/gifts).



> This one's for you, hes_kth. I took your prompt and kind of got lost with it, but I really hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks so much to my beta, Austin, you were a huge help! And a big thanks to the mods for organizing and for being so cool and patient.

Time is much too silly a thing to take seriously.

For something that is so calculated and mathematical, it’s ridiculously inconsistent. Time can slip, time can fly, time can drag. You can spend time, buy time, give time, do time, kill time. A decade can pass in the blink of an eye.

Or, ten minutes could last a thousand years, which Harry is pretty sure he’s experiencing right now. He’s trying not to obviously stare at the clock on the wall as his girlfriend, Jess, breaks up with him. How could she only have been here for ten minutes?

The thing is, Jess is always complaining about never having time. Between classes, law school applications, working, and planning planning planning, she’s lucky to have any minutes to spare. Where did she manage to find an extra thousand years to tell Harry all about his alleged commitment issues?

Harry’s minutes, on the other hand, seem innumerable. Hours, weeks, years, decades that still have to come. Vast, endless, deep, like the ocean. Or maybe like the ocean because sometimes he could swear he was drowning in it. It isn’t as though Harry doesn't have work and school too, but they couldn’t take on the whole ocean. You need something big to keep you afloat, and Harry is stuck clinging to a piece of driftwood with no idea in which direction to paddle.

He looks at the clock again. Eleven minutes now. He rubs his chin, almost expecting a healthy beard to have grown by now.

“Harry?”

He’s startled. “Sorry, what?” he says, trying not to look guilty.

Jess rolls her eyes. “How much of what I said did you actually listen to?”

“I just got distracted for a second,” he mutters.

“Whatever,” Jess sighs. She stands up to leave. “I have to get going anyway, I’ve got a brunch to get to. Have fun tonight, Harry. Happy New Year.” She snatches up her purse from the couch and walks out the door, practically slamming it behind her.

Harry looks at the clock again. Twelve minutes. There's absolutely no way that conversation had only lasted twelve minutes. He holds his bottom lip between thumb and forefinger, tired, thinking. It was bad enough Jess dumped him on New Year’s Eve, but was it really necessary to do it before 9 a.m.? He pads over to the bathroom, turns on the shower, and sticks his hand under the spray, waiting for it to warm up.

~ ~ ~

Niall is making breakfast in the kitchen when Harry comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his head. “Omelette?” Niall offers, a smile on his face.

“Yes, please,” says Harry. Niall really is the most incredible roommate.

Niall finishes up, then walks over with the two plates. He starts shoveling his breakfast into his mouth as soon as he sits down, less chatty than usual. He must have heard.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Niall asks after a minute, mouth full of egg.

Harry takes a deep breath, and looks down at his food. It looks beautiful, like a real Food Network masterpiece. “I don’t know what to say,” he replies, and starts to eat.

Harry is still sorting through his feelings. He knows how he _should_ feel. Sad to be alone again, upset at getting dumped. But mostly Harry just feels guilty because if he’s really honest with himself, he’s so fucking _relieved_.

It’s not that Jess isn’t great. Really. When she was in the right mood, she could be really sweet. It's just that Harry always thought love should be like falling asleep. Soft, sweet, comforting, effortless. A gentle slip into a world of dreams. Being with Jess had never been that way. It was all kinds of pressure. Pressure to commit, to settle on a future, to make plans, and keep plans. It’s not like Harry expects relationships to be easy, but he figures they should at least be _fun_.

Harry suddenly feels a lot guiltier.

Niall is still watching him, patiently waiting for him to finish his thought. Bless him.

“I actually think I’m okay with it,” says Harry. “Like, not exactly happy, but not like, devastated or anything.”

“Well I, for one, am glad to be rid of that she-demon!” Louis announces as he strolls out of Niall’s room. He pushes the towel off of Harry’s head. “You’re finally free!”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Harry says, hanging the towel on the back of his chair. “There’s no need to be nasty.”

“She started it with her loud door slamming and her stupid mean face,” Louis whines. “Now where is my breakfast?”

Louis has been Harry’s best friend since the beginning of the universe. So long that it’s no longer a choice, it’s just a fact. Grass is green, water is wet, Harry and Louis are best friends. So Harry knows that when Louis is trash talking his (now) ex-girlfriend, it’s really out of love, and only partly out of pure rudeness.

“Microwave,” says Niall.

“Sweet, sweet Niall. How did I survive before you?” asks Louis, giving his boyfriend a wet kiss on the cheek before skipping over to grab his breakfast.

“A mystery for the ages,” Niall quips, a fond smile on his face.

After plunking down in a seat, Louis goes on. “Seriously though, Haz, I know a guy who can set us up with some ferrets.” He points his fork at Harry. “We can let them loose in her apartment, and maybe if we’re lucky they’ll shit in her shoes!” He throws Harry a wink. 

“Ugh, not the fucking ferret guy again. Give it up Louis, ferrets don’t make for good pranks!” says Niall. This has been a point of contention between the two for the past couple weeks.

“The ferrets are a great prank! Imagine how pissed you’d be if you came home to a shit load of ferrets in the apartment!”

“You’re about as messy as a pack of ferrets so probably the same—”

“Did you know,” Harry interrupts, folding his hands together on the table, “that a group of ferrets is actually called a business? So like, if a bunch of ferrets went around in little suits, holding meetings and things, they’d be like, a _business_ business.” He chuckles to himself.

Niall covers his face, embarrassed. “Harry, that was awful.”

“Truly terrible, mate,” says Louis, shaking his head.

“Anyway,” Harry goes on, unbothered, “let’s not get any innocent animals involved in my romance troubles.”

“You’re right,” Louis mumbles around his food. “She’d probably possess them to do her bidding anyway.”

“I know you two didn’t exactly get along, but she wasn’t _that_ bad, was she?” asks Harry.

“She was the actual worst. Tell him, Niall.”

“She was kind of the worst, yeah,” adds Niall. “Sorry, mate, you just have bad taste in women.” He tries to give an innocent smile that ends up far too wide.

Harry smiles back and shakes his head. It’s true that the pair of them never really click with the people he sometimes brings home, but he usually chalks that up to them being annoyingly perfect together, and not wanting him to settle for less.

Niall and Louis had been love at first sight. Well, maybe more like love at first beer. Harry brought Louis over after class one day to hang out at his apartment with his new roommate, Niall. The three were having a great time bonding over drinks and video games. That is, until Harry came back from the bathroom to find them sucking face on the couch. Harry quickly went to hide in his room and the two had been inseparable ever since.

“I don't think two hot people in a perfect relationship should be allowed to comment on my love life anyway,” argues Harry. “Just seems smug, honestly.” He crosses his arms and pouts, faking offense.

“Well where’s the fun if we’re not allowed to be smug about it?” Louis barks. “Come sit in my lap, Niall! We’ll show him smug.”

Rolling his eyes, Niall goes over and throws himself onto Louis’ waiting lap. Louis yelps in pain, then grabs Niall’s head and licks a stripe up his cheek.

Niall yells out a laugh. “Disgusting! Did you even brush your teeth yet?” He rubs his saliva-covered cheek against Louis’ forehead in retaliation.

“Ouch! Fuck, you’re gonna give me rug burn with your stupid beard!”

Harry watches as their flirting turns into a full out brawl at the breakfast table. “Nevermind, you two are idiots. I just won’t listen to anything you say. Ever. ‘Til the end of time.”

After they calm down and go back to their separate chairs, Louis asks, “so what do you want to do tonight, Harry? Probably don’t want to go to Jess’ neighbor’s thing anymore, right?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re not gonna like it,” Harry pauses to take a breath. “I think I want to go to Times Square.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding,” groans Louis.

“Harry, how is that a good idea?” adds Niall. “It's going to be _so_ fucking crowded.”

“And terrible,” pipes in Louis, “don’t forget terrible.”

“I think we’ve got to just bite the bullet and do it once,” Harry says. “You can't live in New York and not go at least one time. And this is my last year at NYU, who knows where I could be next New Year’s Eve? It could be my very last chance.” Harry puts on his very best pleading face and holds his breath, waiting.

Niall and Louis look at each other, communicating silently. After about a minute, Louis lets out a very loud whine. “Fine! Fucking fine! But if we’re doing this, we’re bringing all the flasks, and a shit ton of snacks, and a blanket, and _you_ have to carry _everything_ , including me when I’m too drunk to walk.” Louis aims a stink face at Harry.

Harry scampers between the two of them and pulls them into his still naked chest for a tight hug. “I love you both the most.” He starts laying kisses on the tops of their heads.

“You fuckin’ better,” says Louis, shoving Harry away. “Now go put on some clothes, you heathen!”

~ ~ ~

Harry’s just buttoning up his shirt in his room when Louis opens the door. “You could knock, you know,” scolds Harry. “I could've been doing anything in here.”

Louis scoffs, “Let’s not pretend like I haven't seen you in about a million compromising situations before.” He flops down onto Harry’s bed and lets out an exaggerated sigh. There's a brief pause before he sighs again, louder this time.

“What’s wrong?” says Harry, a mild lilt in his voice.

“Nothing! Everything’s perfect, that’s all.”

“Then why are you being fussy?” Harry asks, checking his outfit in the mirror (he knows it will be cold, but he can't help leaving his shirt open just a little).

“I’m not being fussy!” says Louis, voice laced with attitude. “Like I said, everything’s fucking perfect.”

“Okay then,” replies Harry, still waiting for Louis to get to the point.

“So why hasn't Niall asked me to move in yet!” Louis throws his hands up in frustration.

Harry turns to face him and cocks his head to one side. “Don't you already live here?”

Louis whips his head toward Harry, looking affronted. “What makes you think that?”

“Well all your stuff is here—”

“Not all of it!” he counters.“Just my clothes, and my toothbrush, and some school shit, and maybe some valuables.”

“And you have a key—”

“Yeah, that _you_ gave to me!”

“But with Niall’s permission,” Harry points out. “And you always split groceries with us.”

“That money is only for junk food and you know it!” Louis points an accusatory finger at Harry. “He probably thinks I’ll be a shit roommate.”

“You are, but he probably just thinks you already live here.”

“Fuck off,” he snipes. “I’d be the coolest roommate you ever had if I lived here, which I _don’t_!”

“Okay, well maybe you should talk to Niall about this?”

“Or maybe I should just get extra drunk tonight and not think about it.” Louis shifts to bury his face into a pillow.

“Yeah, I don’t know how helpful that will be.” Harry squats down to look through the crate that holds his vinyl collection. “No, no, no, shit!”

“What?”

“I think I left my album at Jess’ house,” Harry groans. “I need it tonight!”

“The one with the New Year’s song?” Louis asks. “Can’t you just play it on your phone after midnight?”

“No, it’s not the same, it has to be the _record_!” Harry picks his phone up off the dresser to call Jess. The line rings once before he’s forwarded to voicemail.

“Jess!” Harry whines into the phone. “Please call me back! I left an album at your house and I need it tonight!” He hangs up and immediately redials.

“Mate,” Louis warns, “She just broke up with you like two hours ago, she’s not gonna pick up.”

Harry ignores him. After a few minutes of constant redialing, Jess finally picks up.

_“Fuck! What the fuck do you want?”_

“Jess!” Relief washes over Harry. “I’m so sorry, it’s just I left a record at your house and I really, really need it. Like as soon as possible. Can I come get it?”

 _“Which record is it?”_ asks Jess, sounding irritated.

“The one with the lipstick mark on the cover.”

_“Shit, I think I lent it to my mom. Can’t you just pick it up another day?”_

“No, I need it before midnight, it’s like, a tradition kind of thing.”

_“Ugh, fine. I’m heading to my mom’s place later. Can you meet me there at four?”_

Harry feels his stomach drop, “You want me to go to your mom’s?”

_“Yeah, just ring the bell and I'll buzz you up.”_

“Do you think you could bring it downstairs?”

 _“If you want the album, you’re gonna have to come up and get it.”_ She hangs up.

Harry feels the dread settle into his chest. And here he had thought being dumped would be the worst part of his day.

~ ~ ~

The subway is, to put it bluntly, a fucking nightmare. Tourists are in clumps staring and pointing at maps, forming ridiculously long lines in front of the fare machines, and, best of all, standing in the middle of every walkway. Even Harry, as patient as he is, feels frustrated by the time he finally steps onto a train, pressed up against strangers as it starts moving.

He sighs, thinking that Louis would be excellent company at the moment. Louis has no problem mowing down a group of people to get where he needs to be. Harry could swear he saw him clothesline a tourist taking a selfie once.

Louis, however, had left early with Niall to secure them a good spot for the countdown. “If you don’t show up because you got back together with that _thing_ , I will smash that record over your head and then feed you the pieces!” Louis had warned. As insurance, Harry was given the blanket and snacks to carry so his guilt at leaving them cold and hungry would force him to show up. Not that he even wants to skip out, it was his idea after all.

As for getting back together with Jess, it is absolutely the last thing on his mind. Especially now that he’s on his way to her mother’s apartment. Harry’s endless charm had somehow never been able to win her over. In fact, Harry would go so far as to say she despises him. The last cocktail party he’d been allowed to attend at their Upper West Side apartment had ended with her drunkenly taking Jess aside to whisper-lecture her about her relationship with someone so “directionless” and “shaggy.”

Distracted by the awful memories of these encounters, Harry doesn’t notice the loud group of teenagers squeezing their way in. As the doors close and the train starts to move, he gets a hard bump from a stranger’s giant backpack. Losing his footing, he falls into someone behind him.

“Fuck! My shirt!”

Harry turns quickly to see a guy with coffee dripping from what used to be a white shirt.

“Oh no! I'm so sorry, that was a complete accident.” Harry awkwardly pats at the guy’s shirt, then looks into his face.

Good god, what a face.

Harry’s sure this is the kind of face people name constellations after. Celestial. Ethereal. Eyelashes so long they probably started a breeze when he blinked. And his cheekbones— 

“Just perfect. Honestly, the best part of my day.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my day is also going terribly.” Harry’s stop is next, and the train is starting to slow down. “Are you okay though? It didn’t burn you or anything?”

“No, I’m fine, just… wet.”

The train stops and the people around them start to shuffle around.

“How far is your stop?” asks Harry. “Maybe we can find some paper towels in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I can get off here.”

The pair of them walk off the car towards the bathroom. Once there, Harry lets out a groan. Hand dryers.

“Figures,” the guy grumbles.

Harry feels terrible. “I really am sorry,” he pleads anxiously. “I didn’t mean to bump into you at all, I just like, lost my footing. And I’m not exactly very graceful in the first place so really, it doesn’t take much for me to fall over.”

“It’s cool, not really mad at you. Just like, I have a meeting with my new advisor and wanted to look clean.”

“When is it?” asks Harry.

“In like half an hour. In the park by the Natural History Museum.” The guy feebly tries to wring out his shirt.

“That's not too far,” Harry says, mostly to himself. He gets an idea. “Do you maybe want to trade shirts for your meeting? I don't have to be on time to anything, and I really feel like I owe you.” He’d _prefer_ not to be on time.

The guy looks at Harry’s shirt. There's a slight cringe on his face. “Don't know if I'd be caught dead in that one, mate.”

Harry looks down at what he's wearing. It's a white button up with a ruffle around the collar. He cracks a smile, “If you knew me, you’d know this is one of my least eccentric shirts, but at least it's clean?”

The guy looks at the shirt again, pursing his lips, unsure.

“Come on, I dare you,” Harry says, half joking.

The guy is thrown. “You _dare_ me?”

“Yeah, I dare you.”

“You can't just dare a stranger to do something,” coffee guy says, rolling his eyes. “There has to be like, context for it. Or you at least have to let them choose between that and a truth.”

“All right.” Harry crosses his arms. “Truth or dare?” he asks, a challenge in his voice.

The guy’s eyes narrow. “Dare,” he states, not backing down.

“I dare you to wear this weird ruffly shirt to that meeting.”

A smile breaks across coffee guy’s face.

They both start to strip off their outer layers. Harry tries not to stare too obviously as coffee guy sheds his shirt. It’s nearly impossible. He’s a slim guy, but Harry can see the ripple of wiry muscle shifting underneath his skin. He’s got a smattering of tattoos going up his arms, along with a few random ones on his torso. Harry’s eyes are drawn down to the heart shape peeking out from the top of his waistband.

Harry’s mind stops in its tracks when he hears the guy chuckle. “What?” Harry asks, a blush creeping onto his face.

“Nothing,” the guy smirks. It’s gorgeous and devastating. “It’s just, usually I like, get a guy’s name at least before I get him out of his clothes.”

Harry lets out a small laugh, then strips off his shirt. “My name’s Harry,” he says, extending his free hand.

“Zayn.” The guy— _Zayn_ responds. They exchange a handshake, smiles on their faces

~ ~ ~

Zayn had told Harry that his meeting would probably take about 20 minutes, so Harry uses the opportunity to walk to the closest cafe and get him a replacement coffee. While he waits, Harry thinks about Zayn.

On their walk over to the park, they had discussed the usual get-to-know-you stuff. Zayn is 23, has just moved to New York, is about to start grad school at Columbia, and is meeting his new advisor to discuss the possibility of writing a graphic novel as his thesis. He loves comic books, makes spray paint art, and is the most gorgeous person Harry’s ever seen in real life.

It’s not unlike Harry to develop a crush on a stranger. In fact, it’s pretty common. And from what Louis tells him, he doesn’t hide it well. Flirting comes naturally to him, and maybe he doesn’t try very hard to be subtle about it.

But something about the way Zayn carries himself throws Harry for a loop. He’s got a coolness to him that Harry finds intimidating and attractive. It’s something Harry isn’t exactly sure he knows how to handle.

This was very evident when Zayn asked him about his own hobbies. He completely blanked and couldn't come up with anything besides “I write songs sometimes.”

He's sitting on the bench they agreed to meet at, cooing at some pigeons, when Zayn approaches.

“What is that?” says Zayn, gesturing at the cup Harry’s holding.

Harry gives him a bright smile. “I got you a makeup coffee? I don't know how you take it though, so it's just black. Sorry.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow at him, “Are you always weirdly nice to strangers?”

Harry can feel himself turning red. Again. “I guess so? I help my 81-year old neighbor carry groceries to her 5th floor walk-up every week,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah. That is weirdly nice.” Zayn sits down next to Harry and snatches the coffee out of his hand. “Thanks for this though,” he says, raising the cup to Harry before taking a sip.

“Least I could do,” says Harry. “How did your meeting go?”

“Went really well,” Zayn chuckles. “I think the shirt helped, actually. She thought it was like, unique. Commended me on my style.”

Harry preens under the compliment.

Zayn side-eyes him. “Don’t get too smug though, it’s still a hideous shirt.” He smirks that devastating smirk again. It's horrible. Harry has to turn his face away because he’s pretty sure he’s got huge heart eyes on for the guy.

“Well at least my hideous shirt helped fix your day,” says Harry, defensive.

“True, thanks for that too,” concedes Zayn. “So, truth or dare?”

Harry breaks into a smile. “Truth.”

“What happened to you that made your day so shit?”

Harry cringes. “My girlfriend dumped me this morning.”

“Ouch, sorry.”

“That’s not even the bad part, honestly,” Harry sighs. “Right now I’m on my way to her mother’s house to pick something up.” He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “She is, by far, the most difficult person I've ever met.”

“Is that like, nice-guy speak for ‘she's a total bitch?’”

He tries his hardest not to smile. “She just… doesn't think much of me.”

“Why not?” asks Zayn. “I've only known you for like an hour, but you seem pretty harmless to me.”

“I think it's mainly a status thing, you know? Like, they're a pretty wealthy family, and they have like, a lot of connections and things like that,” Harry explains. “And my ex was really career oriented, so for her to be dating a guy like me who is like, about to graduate with no job offers and like, majored in music—not exactly ideal.”

“Okay.” Zayn nods like he understands, “Tell you what, I'll go with you.”

Harry’s head whips toward him, “What?”

“I'm Muslim and gay, so I definitely know what it's like when snobby people act like they’re better than you.” he claps a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll be your buffer.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” Zayn gets up from the bench and extends a hand toward him to help him up. “Besides, I kind of owe you. For the shirt.”

Harry takes the hand. “Thanks,” he says, and they start making their way towards the apartment.

“This girl must have been something special for you to deal with so much bullshit from her mom,” Zayn says after a moment.

Harry rubs at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “She’s definitely something,” he starts, “special might be arguable. My friends have another word they like to use.”

“Which is?”

“The worst.”

Zayn kind of chuckles. “And is she? The worst?”

“Well.” Memories of petty arguments with Jess rush to the forefront of Harry’s brain. “Maybe?” He scrunches his nose up.

“Was she hot at least?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Got it,” Zayn says, nodding his head. “Definitely been there.”

“But it wasn’t like that!” Harry defends quickly. “That wasn’t like, the only reason I went out with her. She was cool for a while, and then she just kind of, wasn’t?”

“I believe you.”

They walk in comfortable silence for a minute. The building they’re heading for is only a couple of blocks away now. Harry thinks about time again, and how quickly it seemed to be moving suddenly.

“So,” Harry says, breaking the silence, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Zayn responds easily.

“Same question. What made your day go so wrong?”

Zayn purses his lips. “Mine is nowhere near as traumatic as yours.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Just like, I hate New Years.”

“Why?”

Zayn sighs, “The crowds, the drunk people everywhere, the pressure to go out, the resolutions thing. Plus my friend kind of bailed on me.”

“That sucks,” Harry says, looking over at him. “What were you going to do?”

“He was basically going to force me to go to this party at his girlfriend’s place, but then he got called into work at the last minute.” Zayn tosses his now empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can. “It’s not a big deal, but I was kind of getting excited for it.”

“Yeah, I get it. Why don’t you like resolutions though?” Harry asks.

Zayn pauses for a moment. “I just think they give people a reason to like, act extra terrible tonight. Like, they’re going to start being better people in the morning, so might as well act shitty while they can. Plus, it’s kind of bullshit anyway, right?”

“What is?”

“Just like, the whole idea.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Like yeah, it’s a new year, but really, it’s only been a day. No one is actually going to change from one day to the next, you know?”

It’s quiet for a minute as Harry thinks about what Zayn’s just said. He must make a face because Zayn looks at him and says, “You can tell me I’m being a downer if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “No, no, I wasn’t thinking that at all. I totally get what you mean.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and turns his face away a little. “I’m just not so sure I agree. Not with all of it, anyway.”

Zayn is looking at him like he wants him to continue, so he does.

“I mean, sure it’s only one day, but a lot can happen in just a day. Especially on New Year’s. I just think there’s like, a feeling, you know? Like something about a whole new year ahead of you feels like, fresh, or hopeful or something. And I think just that can make a difference to some people.” He looks over at Zayn, who’s giving him a look he can’t quite read, but he suddenly feels exposed, so he turns his face away again.

Zayn clears his throat. “Okay, that makes sense. So what’s your resolution then?”

“Well… I haven’t picked one yet.” Harry stops in front of the right building, and turns to look at Zayn. “But I'm sure I'll come up with something good.”

Zayn looks up at the building, then back at Harry. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” he says, hoping a dare might get him out of this.

“I dare you to _suggest_ a resolution to this woman,” Zayn challenges. “A genuine one.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

~ ~ ~

Once outside the right apartment, Harry knocks on the door. There’s the sound of heels clacking on the floor, and then an older woman answers. She gives Harry an ugly once-over, eyes lingering on the sizeable coffee stain he’s wearing. “Couldn’t find a clean shirt?” she sneers.

“That was my bad, actually,” interjects Zayn. “I spilled coffee on him earlier. Hi, I’m Zayn.”

The woman yells over her shoulder, “Jessie, the shaggy one’s here.” She turns her glare on Zayn, then adds, “and he’s brought a date.”

She turns away from them without another word, leaving the door open. The pair of them step in and shut it behind them.

“She’s worse than I thought,” whispers Zayn.

Harry shrugs, “Thanks for trying.” He buttons up his coat, hiding the stain.

Looking around, the apartment looks like it’s being set up for a party. There’s a bar ready on one side of the living room, caterers are preparing trays of food in the kitchen, and there’s someone stacking a pyramid of champagne glasses on a table.

Zayn steps over toward the giant window, admiring the view of Central Park. “You weren’t kidding,” Zayn says when Harry comes over to join him, “these people are loaded.”

Footsteps sound from behind. They turn to see Jess walking towards them, “Harry can you help me look for it in the lounge, there’s just so much shit—” she stops when she sees Zayn. “Who’s this?”

“This is Zayn,” says Harry, gesturing a hand at Zayn. Zayn gives a short wave.

Jess gives him a menacing look, then continues, “Anyway, like I was saying, there’s a lot of shit in the lounge so I could use some help looking through it.”

“Absolutely,” Harry starts moving toward her, then gestures at Zayn to follow.

Inside the lounge is a wall of shelves that go from floor to ceiling, packed with CDs, vinyl records, and cassette tapes. At the moment there’s a Zeppelin album blaring from the large speakers set up in the room.

“Mom says she put it in here somewhere, but can’t remember where,” Jess explains. “I’ll be back in a second to help look.” She steps out of the room.

Harry picks a shelf and starts to sift through the collection.

“Holy shit, what exactly are we looking for?” Zayn asks, eyes wide.

Harry describes the album to him.

“Why doesn’t she just look for it and give it to you later?” questions Zayn.

“Well, I actually need it for tonight,” Harry says distractedly. “It’s part of like, a New Year’s tradition.”

“What’s the tradition?” Zayn asks, squatting down to dig through a lower shelf.

“So, my mom thinks that the song you choose to play at a certain moment in life is like, very important,” explains Harry. “So every New Year’s, she would always play the same song after midnight to kind of… start the year off on a good note.”

“Okay, so why can’t you just play it on your phone?”

“Well, she always played the record. And then when my sister and I moved out, she gave us our own copies to play too,” Harry remembers. “It just doesn’t feel right if it’s not the record, you know?”

“So does there need to be a record player wherever you go on New Year’s?”

“No, no, it doesn’t have to be like at midnight,” he clarifies. “It just needs to be the first song I play. I like to do it right before I go to sleep.”

“That's actually really sweet. I thought the whole record thing was you being all hipstery about sound quality or something,” Zayn teases.

“Well,” Harry looks down to meet Zayn’s eyes, “maybe it's a tiny bit that too,” he concedes with a light laugh.

Zayn rolls his eyes playfully.

“What about you?” Harry asks. “Any family New Year’s traditions?”

“When I was younger my aunt used to throw a big party at her house,” he says, remembering. “All the aunties and uncles would go and we’d eat, and then I’d play with my cousins. But now that we’re older it's harder to get everyone together in one place.” He pauses to examine an album. “Now if I'm home for New Year’s I'm happy to just hang out at home with my parents and my sisters.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Three,” says Zayn, “two younger, one older.”

“I bet you're the protective type of brother, huh?”

“How'd you guess?” Zayn smiles.

“Well, you just met me and you're already protecting me,” Harry reasons. “Thank you again, by the way.”

“No problem.”

They grin at each other for a moment.

Zayn breaks first, “So which song—”

“Find it yet?” interrupts Jess, stepping back into the room.

“Still looking,” replies Zayn. She gives him a stink face and then picks a spot near Harry to start sorting through.

There’s a few long minutes of tense silence as the three of them search through the shelves before Zayn stands. “Do you mind if I use your restroom?” he asks.

“Last door on the right,” Jess replies, not even looking up.

Harry can almost physically feel the room get colder when Zayn leaves.

“Nice to see you've moved on so quickly.”

Harry blinks at her. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she says. “You just _happen_ show up here with some gorgeous guy who _happens_ to be wearing your shirt?” She rolls her eyes.

Harry’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops. “No, Jess, it’s not like that at all, I swear.”

“Quit playin’, I know that's your shirt.” 

“Yes it’s my shirt, but I lent it to him, he’s not, we’re not—” Harry takes a deep breath. “I spilled coffee on him earlier, and he had an important meeting to go to so we traded shirts.”

“Still doesn't explain why you guys were smiling all goofy at each other when I came in.”

Harry’s rebuttal gets caught in his throat. He's embarrassed because he's sure he probably had a goofy look on his face. But there's no way Zayn had one too, right?

“I didn't come here to like, rub your face in anything, really,” Harry says softly. “I wouldn't do that.” He lays a hand on her arm.

Just then, Zayn comes back from the bathroom. “Oh. I’ll give you guys a minute,” he says, and steps back out of the room.

Harry feels embarrassed, and quickly removes his hand.

~ ~ ~

After finding the right album, Harry goes back to the living room to look for Zayn. He's standing by the window, looking out at the view again. Harry joins him.

“Found it,” he says, showing the cover to Zayn.

“Nice. Is that lipstick?” he asks, pointing at the kiss mark on the cover.

“Yeah, my mom did that before she gave it to me.”

They share an awkward minute, staring out at the tops of the trees.

“Listen, about what you saw—”

“It's cool,” Zayn interrupts, “you don't have to explain anything to me. It's none of my business.”

“I know, but I just want you to know that it was nothing.” He catches Zayn’s eyes, “that's all over. It's been over, honestly.”

Zayn stares into his eyes for a moment, face unreadable. Harry feels a tingle at the base of his spine.

“Okay, I believe you.”

Harry hadn't noticed he was holding his breath. He lets it out, feeling oddly relieved.

“Wanna get out of here?” Harry asks.

“God yes, if I have to hear that woman yell at another server, I'm going to flip a table.”

They’re rushing their way out when Jess’ mom catches them. “Leaving so soon? And without even a thank you for allowing you into my home after all the misery you caused Jessie.” She tuts and shakes her head.

“Now’s your chance,” Zayn mutters, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

Harry gathers himself up. “Mrs. Wilson, I was wondering if you had a resolution for the coming year?” He can see Zayn tense up with excitement next to him.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well I was just thinking,” Harry begins, as he’s backing towards the door, “I hear that doing a yoga class once a week can really help uptight people relax. You could probably do with a few classes a day.”

He turns and shoves Zayn toward the front door, and the pair of them book it to the elevators. They laugh all the way out to the street.

“That,” Zayn breathes between laughs, “was excellent!”

“I had to do it,” Harry gasps, “you dared me.”

They giggle for another minute. And then there's an awkward moment when neither of them knows what to do next.

“So,” Zayn starts, bowing his head, hiding his hands in his pockets, “I guess I should head home now.”

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easily!” Harry shakes his head. “It’s my turn. Truth or dare?”

Zayn smiles. “Dare.”

“Come with me to Times Square tonight.”

Zayn groans. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Not even a little,” says Harry, a wicked grin on his face. “You do owe me big for that last dare.”

Zayn’s entire face screws up and he sighs deep. “All right, but I’m not getting back on that subway.”

“Deal.”

They decide to start the journey with a walk through Central Park as they continue their game. The weather is unseasonably warm for a day in December. There's no snow falling, and only a small bite to the wind. Joggers run past them on the paths, and there are a few people milling around.

Harry discovers that he loves to make Zayn laugh. Something about the way his entire face lights up is addicting. His nose scrunches, his eyes squint, and his tongue tucks behind his front teeth. It's endearing as hell.

They’re passing by a field when Zayn says, “I bet you're a picnic kind of guy.”

Harry cocks his head to one side. “What makes you think that?”

“Don't know, you just seem like,” he pauses to look at Harry, “like you can lay out a nice spread.”

Harry chokes out a laugh.

“Am I wrong?”

“You're not wrong. I do enjoy a nice picnic now and again,” Harry admits. “What about you? Are you big on them?”

“I’ve never had one.”

Harry frowns, “Why not?”

“Never really thought to do it, I guess,” he says, shrugging.

Harry stops in his tracks. “Well then I think we ought to change that.” He gestures his head towards the field.

Zayn looks out at the empty field, then back at Harry. “What, like now?”

“Yeah!” Harry offers his arm. “Come on.”

“But we don’t have food,” Zayn contradicts. “And the grass is probably wet.”

“I have snacks and a blanket.”

Zayn looks skeptical, but takes Harry’s arm anyway, and they make their way toward the grass.

Zayn’s right, the grass is kind of wet. Luckily they’re both wearing boots, so they trudge through without wetting their socks. They pick a spot that looks clear of mud, and Harry lays out the blanket. After getting comfortable, he brings out the snacks.

“Okay, fruit roll ups or Hot Cheetos?”

“Hot Cheetos, obviously.”

Most people eat Hot Cheetos one of two ways. Harry is the type to dust the red dust off his fingers between bites. Zayn, however, eats them the other way: leaving the red to pile up on his fingertips until the bag is polished off, then licking it off and leaving a stain on the skin underneath. Harry is only slightly entranced by the way Zayn’s lips wrap around his own finger. And maybe his eyes linger on his bottom lip for a second too long.

Zayn notices, but says nothing, just lifts an eyebrow slightly. And maybe parts his lips the tiniest bit.

They lay out on the blanket next to each other, staring up at the darkening sky, making each other laugh.

“Truth or dare?” asks Harry.

“Truth.”

“Which is the coolest constellation?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn thinks. “Perseus I guess? He was pretty cool.”

“Wrong, sorry,” says Harry. “The right answer is Pegasus.”

“Why is it Pegasus?”

“Because Pegasuses are cool.”

Zayn laughs, “Isn’t it Pegasi?”

“That sounds a lot less cool. Let’s just stick to Pegasus. Singular.”

“Alright, my turn.” Zayn shifts so he’s laying on his side, facing Harry. “Truth or dare?”

Harry turns to face him too. “Truth. I don't trust your dares anymore.”

“What are you truly afraid of?”

Harry’s a little taken aback at how serious the game’s suddenly gotten.

“Sorry,” says Zayn. “Was that too personal?”

“No, it’s okay. I just need to think about it for a second.” But Harry doesn’t really need to think about it. He feels that ocean swelling in him again and knows exactly what to say. “Um, time?”

“Time? Like running out of it?”

“No, more like overwhelmed that there’s so much of it.” He looks away from Zayn’s gaze. “I guess I just feel like everyone has a plan, and that’s where all their time goes, but for me… I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do next, and all the time I have left is just sitting there, waiting for me to do something with it, and I just have no idea where to put it all.”

It’s quiet for a second, then he feels Zayn’s hand cover his. It’s ice cold, but somehow still comforting.

“You know,” Zayn starts, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing either.”

Harry’s shocked by this. “But, you seem so like, together! You’re in grad school, and you’ve already picked out your thesis—”

“I applied to Columbia because I had no idea what to do after I finished school,” Zayn confesses. “Plus, I thought it would be cool to live in New York.” He smiles sheepishly.

Harry suddenly feels a huge weight off his chest, and laughs with relief. “Wow, no offense but I feel a lot better.”

Zayn laughs too, “Glad I could help.”

“So what are you afraid of then?” Harry says. He’s very aware that Zayn’s hand hasn’t moved.

Zayn pauses for a moment, chewing on his lip. “Not being real.”

“What, like a ghost?” Harry jokes.

“No!” Zayn shoves at his shoulder playfully. “Like, not being myself.” He takes a breath. “Sometimes I feel like I kind of mold to fit in with other people’s expectations rather than be myself. And I really hate it, but I’m kind of shy, so sometimes I feel like it’s just... easier.” He’s starting to fidget, nervous.

“If it makes you feel better,” Harry says softly, “you seem very genuine to me.”

“Thanks,” Zayn smiles. “I’m trying.”

“All right,” Harry breathes, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“How are you enjoying your first picnic?”

“Well, the food was superb,” Zayn makes an OK sign with his hand and winks. “And the company isn't too bad either.” He runs his thumb across Harry’s knuckles.

Harry swallows, and they stare for a minute, light smiles on their faces. Harry notices that Zayn has a freckle on his eye, right outside the iris. It moves as Zayn shifts his gaze down to Harry’s lips. He can feel his heart beat faster. His breath isn’t coming quite as easily. His whole body feels warmer.

Just then, a drop of water splashes down into Harry’s eye. Then another on his temple. He sees one hit Zayn’s cheek. Rain.

They stand, picking everything up off the grass as quickly as they can, and start running for cover, laughing the entire time.

~ ~ ~

The rain stops pretty quickly, and they start making their way to Times Square. Harry is standing outside a liquor store, waiting for Zayn to buy a pack of cigarettes. He's staring at the other side of the street, thinking about the pretzels he gets at the cart that's usually there. He loves that the salt they use is so large and square, it almost looks like quartz. It makes him think of the Hall of Minerals in the Natural History Museum, and all the hours he’s spent there watching videos of crystals growing despite all of Louis’ cries of boredom.

“What are you thinking about?” asks Zayn from behind.

Harry meets his eyes and smiles. “Um... minerals.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “Minerals?”

“Yeah like, rocks.” Harry smiles sheepishly.

“Okay, you got a favorite?” Zayn asks as he lights up.

“A few actually,” he says. “Pyrite for one, I like when it grows in like almost perfect cubes. And spessartine and dioptase have some really nice colors. Oh and, what’s the big one that’s in the middle of the Hall of Minerals? The blue one?”

“Azurite,” Zayn fills. “I like that one too.” He takes a puff of his cigarette. “I would have thought you’d say opal for sure.”

“Why’s that?”

“Not sure, just seems very… you.” He meets Harry’s eyes. “Kind of dreamy, you know? Dream boy.”

Harry can feel his cheeks heat up. “I don’t think think that’s exactly what that phrase means.”

Zayn smirks, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. “I know what it means.”

Harry’s overwhelmed. He tears his gaze away, biting his lip, staring down at his shoes.

Zayn finishes up his cigarette and they start walking again. Their hands bump against each other as they walk. Harry wants so badly to just twine his fingers into Zayn’s, but he feels guilty somehow. His relationship just ended _this morning_. How is he even thinking of moving on so quickly? And the more time he spends with Zayn, the more he sees Zayn smile, the more he really _likes_ Zayn. He doesn’t want Zayn to just be some rebound. He’d rather nothing happened between them than risk that.

Harry shakes his head, trying to clear it. He needs a distraction. “I believe it’s your turn” he states, breaking the silence.

“Okay,” Zayn grins. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he says immediately.

Zayn looks around, trying to think of a good dare. His eyes land somewhere over Harry’s shoulder. “I dare you to buy me a drink.”

Harry turns to see an Irish pub across the street. It’s crowded, and the music blares out from the inside every time the door opens.

Harry nods, “Let’s do it.”

~ ~ ~

There's about a billion people waiting to order drinks ahead of them.

“What do you want?” Harry yells over the music.

Zayn raises an eyebrow at him, challenging. “Is that how you go about it? Trying to buy someone a drink?”

“What?”

“The dare was to buy me a drink,” Zayn says, a mischievous grin on his face. “I didn't say I'd make it easy.”

It suddenly clicks, Zayn wants Harry to pick him up. He nods, “Okay, get ready.” He mimes cracking his neck, does a couple of arm stretches. Zayn snickers next to him. Harry turns away, puts on a blank face, then turns to face the bar.

Normally Harry has no problem charming a pretty stranger in a bar, but the fact that it’s Zayn has him second-guessing himself. He tries to clear his head, takes a breath.

He scans the interior of the bar, then lets his eyes land on Zayn. He slowly turns his head toward him, like he’s seeing him for the first time. Zayn turns to look at him too. He sweeps his eyes down Zayn’s body, then meets his gaze again, giving him a smirk, the one he knows will show his dimples.

Zayn raises an eyebrow, then turns his face away.

Harry is undeterred, he takes a step closer to Zayn. “That’s a very interesting shirt.”

Zayn turns to look at him again. “Thanks, it was a gift from a suitor.”

“Lucky you. Is he good-looking?”

“Gorgeous,” Zayn drawls. “No game though.” He shakes his head pityingly.

Harry bites back a smile. “Well, they can’t all be winners.” He drops his stare to Zayn’s chest, “But can’t really blame him for trying.” Then meets Zayn’s eyes again, putting on his most devastating smile.

Words falter on Zayn’s lips. Harry presses on. “Are you taking applicants for a replacement then?”

Zayn clears his throat. “You got a resume on you?”

“Not at the moment,” Harry admits. “But I'm a great multitasker,” he pauses, “and I'm told I leave a lasting impression.”

He sees Zayn swallow and feels a brief moment of satisfaction until: “That was so bad.”

Harry ignores that. Leading with his hips, he takes a step closer, right into Zayn’s space. He leans in close, whispers, “What’s your drink?” letting his lips just barely graze the shell of Zayn’s ear.

“Jack and Coke,” Zayn says, a creak in his voice.

Harry pulls back. “Coming up,” he says, flashing a smile.

~ ~ ~

Three very strong drinks later and they’re stumbling out of the bar, laughter pouring out of their mouths. The dull beat of the music drifts out from the bar and Harry notices the subtle sway of Zayn’s hips.

He steps up to him. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare!” Zayn crows.

Harry offers a hand. “Dance with me.”

Zayn hesitates, looking nervous, but takes the hand anyway and Harry spins him. They laugh, swaying together beneath the streetlights, ignoring the dirty looks they get from passing strangers. They rest during a break in the music, backs pressed against the wall of the bar, breath fogging out in front of them.

Harry closes his eyes and sighs deep, letting the feeling of this moment wash over him, smiling with it.

He feels Zayn poke a finger into his dimple. “What are you thinking about?”

Harry opens his eyes and turns his head to look at him. “Just feeling the moment, you know?” He looks down at his hands, fidgets with the hem of the coffee stained shirt. “This morning I was sure this entire day would be awful but this has been,” he stops to think, trying to put into words the feeling that’s been slowly building since he first saw Zayn on the subway. “I’m just really glad I met you.”

Zayn looks shy when Harry glances back up at him.

And it’s at that moment that Harry’s phone blares from the pocket of his coat. He chooses to ignore it, but when it rings again immediately, he knows exactly who it is.

 _“Haaaaaaaaarold, where are you?!”_ Louis sings.

“I’m not too far, just a few blocks away now. How drunk are you, Lou?”

_“Harry Edward Styles, I’ve never been drunk in my entire life.”_

“Trashed, okay.”

_“Can you hurry up? I am dying for some Hot Cheetos—oh Niall wants to talk to you!”_

There’s some shuffling on the line. _“Harry?”_

“Hiii. How drunk is Louis?”

_“Completely obliterated. Whenever I try to give him water he yells at me to stop being so perfect. What’s he pissed about?”_

“He's upset that you haven't asked him to move in,” Harry spills. He’s a terrible at keeping secrets after a couple of drinks.

There's a pause before Niall speaks again, this time in a whisper. _“Doesn't he already live with us?”_

Harry laughs, “Apparently not.”

 _“Alright I'll take care of it,”_ Niall says, laughter in his voice. _“But Harry, listen. The cops aren't letting anyone past the barricades, I don't think you can get in anymore.”_

“Oh no,” Harry groans.

Zayn quirks an eyebrow, asking without words.

“The police aren’t letting people into Times Square anymore,” Harry responds.

Zayn nods, “I might have a friend who can help us.” He takes out his phone and starts tapping at the screen.

 _“Who are you talking to?”_ Niall asks.

“Oh it’s Zayn. He thinks he can get us in.”

_“Who is Zayn?”_

“I met him on the train today. He’s very nice, you’ll like him.”

 _“You’re bringing a date?”_ There’s a squawk, some shuffling, and then Louis is back.

_“Who the fuck is Zayn?!”_

Harry sighs deeply, and looks over at Zayn who gives him a smile and a thumbs up.

“I have to go now Louis, I’ll see you soon.”

_“Don’t you dare hang up on me Styles! What’s he look like? Is he hot? Does he have a big—”_

Harry hangs up. “Lead the way.”

~ ~ ~

When they finally find the right barricade, Zayn scurries up to his friend: a cop with a big eye-crinkling smile. He envelops Zayn in a big bear hug.

“You decided not to sleep off the rest of the year, then?” he says through a huge grin.

Zayn holds his hands up defensively. “I was forced into it,” he gestures his head over at Harry. “Liam this is Harry. Harry, Liam.”

“Very nice to meet you Liam,” Harry says, giving him a warm handshake.

“Good to meet you Harry. I don’t know how you got Zayn to come out here, it took a week of convincing for him to agree to go to a party with me, before I got called in anyway. Sorry again,” he says to Zayn.

Zayn just rolls his eyes in response and gives Liam’s cheek a pinch.

“Well, he’s bound by the very strict laws of Truth or Dare,” Harry clarifies, nodding his head sagely.

Liam laughs deeply. “Well I’m glad it’s working, he needs a night out.”

“I go out!” defends Zayn, crossing his arms and giving the pair of them the least threatening stink face Harry’s ever seen.

“Picking up your mail from downstairs doesn’t count.”

Liam and Harry chuckle at Zayn scoffing in mock offense.

After a couple minutes of chit chat, Liam escorts them to what looks like a corral absolutely packed with people.

“This is the best I can do for you guys. You probably won’t find your friends, and you can’t leave or you won’t be able to get back in. Sorry.” Liam shrugs and gives them a sympathetic look.

“This is wonderful, thank you very much for your help Liam,” says Harry, shaking his hand one more time.

“I’ll see you later Liam,” Zayn says, giving him a one armed hug.

“Have fun you two.” Liam waggles his eyebrows at Zayn with absolutely no subtlety. Zayn responds by punching him in the shoulder.

The two weave through the crowd of people until they find a little spot just big enough for the two of them to stand together.

“Well, this is… terrible,” Zayn says with a laugh. They’re close enough that Harry can feel Zayn’s breath on his face with every word.”

“Just a bit,” agrees Harry. “But luckily, I’ve come prepared” He pulls a flask out from the inside of his coat. “Hope you like vodka.”

~ ~ ~

The energy changes when 11:59 hits. It feels as if the whole crowd is vibrating. Everything and everyone comes alive with the excitement. It’s loud, and Zayn’s voice is drowned out by the sound of everyone suddenly counting down.

Zayn looks up at the clock. Harry looks at Zayn. His face is washed pink and blue from the lights of the screens around them, his smile wide, his eyes sparkling. He’s a dream. Harry’s eyes drink it all in. This image, this is the first thing he wants to see when the new year comes.

Ten…

Nine…

Eight…

Zayn turns to look at him, straight in the eyes.

Seven…

Six…

Five…

“Truth or dare?” Zayn screams, smile brighter than starlight.

Four…

Three…

“Dare!”

Two…

Zayn takes hold of his face.

One.

Consciously, Harry knows that the cheers, the screams, the fireworks are all part of the celebration. Consciously, he knows the flashing lights, the music, the noisemakers were not meant for him specifically.

But conscious thought melts away when Zayn kisses him.

The lights flash for the softness of Zayn’s lips. The music plays to the frantic beating of his heart. The fireworks ignite from the heat building up inside him. The night belongs to this kiss, to this moment alone.

They break when they feel confetti falling onto their faces. Harry giggles and looks up, watching it fall down all around him, blinking away what lands near his eyes. He shakes out his hair, and finds Zayn staring, stellar smile on his face.

Zayn reaches out to lace their fingers together, then leans in to whisper, “Come home with me, dream boy.”

~ ~ ~

On the subway back to Zayn’s apartment, Harry thinks about time again. Less than ten hours ago he fell over onto a stranger, and now here they were, squeezing each other’s hands, trading whispers and smiles. This meeting, this night, these weren’t things that could be planned, he couldn’t have seen them coming. He thinks about time, about that big ocean swell, and when he looks at Zayn, and thinks about this incredible night with this incredible boy, he feels it calm to a gentle ebb and flow.

They hang their coats in the hallway by Zayn’s front door and kick off their shoes.

“Make yourself at home,” says Zayn, gesturing at the bed.

Harry sits himself down, glancing around the studio apartment. There's a door he assumes is the bathroom, but everything else is here in this one room.

“Want anything to drink?”

“No thank you,” Harry responds.

“Give me one sec.”

Zayn moves over to a closet on one side of the room and starts digging through it. After a couple of minutes he turns to face Harry. He's carrying a small portable turntable, a shy smile on his face. “Ready?”

Harry smiles wide, and brings _Rumours_ out of his bag.

After years of practice, Harry knows exactly where to drop the needle. Pure joy bubbles out of him as he hears the beginning notes play, his head bobbing from side to side.

_If you wake up and don’t want to smile  
If it takes just a little while_

His shoulders start to sway along. Zayn watches him, smiling with his tongue between his teeth.

_Open your eyes and look at the day  
You’ll see things in a different way_

Harry stares Zayn down, a challenge in his eyes.

_Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow_

He stands, offering a hand out to Zayn, again, already swaying his hips.

_Don’t stop, it’ll soon be here_

Zayn takes his hand and hops up.

_It’ll be better than before  
Yesterday’s gone, yesterday’s gone_

They dance together there in their socks, bouncing around to Lindsey Buckingham’s voice, laughing and spinning.

When the song ends, they flop onto Zayn’s bed, giggling and exhausted. “I can’t believe you made me dance to that,” Zayn pants.

Harry lifts his head up to glare at him. “Don't pretend like you didn't love it!”

Zayn giggles up at him, then gently brushes back a loose curl. Harry dips down for another kiss.

Harry could spend years kissing Zayn. He loves the way their lips fit together, the way the stubble on Zayn’s chin feels against him, the way Zayn slides his fingers into the hair on the back of his head. He feels Zayn’s tongue swipe across his lower lip and opens up for him. He tastes smokey and sweet. Biting down on Zayn’s lower lip, he revels in the moan it brings.

Harry pulls back slightly, pausing, touching a light finger to the top button of the ruffled shirt. “I think,” he says, popping it open, “it's probably time you return my shirt.”

Zayn meets his eyes as he flicks another button open, pupils blown wide. “I think you're right.”

Harry works the rest of the buttons open, then straddles Zayn's lap, running his hands over the tattoos he'd admired before, dipping down to bite the lips on his chest.

Zayn is breathy, and impatient. He slides the rest of the shirt off his shoulders and starts to work on the one Harry’s wearing. “You look like a mess, you shouldn't be wearing this.”

Harry laughs, but obliges all the same, tossing the stained shirt aside once he gets it off. He goes back to mouthing at Zayn’s chest, running his tongue over a nipple, getting a hiss as reward. Zayn’s hands are restless, tugging at his hair, sliding across his shoulders. Harry plants a kiss just under his navel, “What do you want?”

“The works,” Zayn says, that awful smirk on his face again.

Harry chuckles, popping open the button of Zayn’s jeans, sliding off his remaining layers.

Harry lets his eyes feast for moment, running them over the expanse of Zayn's glorious skin, taking in the tattoos he hadn't seen beneath his pants. Zayn squirms under his gaze.

Harry clears his throat, “Do you have—”

“Top drawer.” Zayn says, pointing to a nightstand.

Harry grabs what he needs then settles down between Zayn’s legs. He kisses the heart on Zayn’s hip, working his way downward, teasing, torturing. A deep guttural sound comes from Zayn when Harry finally takes him into his mouth. He's a writhing mess.

Harry devours him, hollowing his cheeks each time he pulls up. Zayn grips the sheets with one hand and cards his fingers through Harry’s hair with the other. Harry looks up at him through his eyelashes. Zayn’s lips are swollen, eyes shut, hair askew, and Harry hates it. Hates that even when he’s being taken apart he still looks stunning.

Harry does his best to keep rhythm as he grabs the lube. He uncaps it and slicks up his fingers. Slowly, his finger finds its way to Zayn’s entrance, and gently slides in. Zayn lets out a surprised gasp, but relaxes almost immediately, spreading his legs a little wider.

About a minute later, Harry hears Zayn chuckle above him. He pauses and pulls off, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” Zayn says through a laugh, “you really _are_ a great multitasker.”

Harry slaps at his chest playfully, then adds another finger, cutting off Zayn’s giggles with a quick breath. He curls them at just the right angle, hitting the spot that has Zayn crying out and makes his whole body shudder.

Zayn starts to get restless, his breath getting shallower with every passing second. “Truth or dare?” he demands, panting.

Harry smirks at him. “Actually, I believe it’s _my_ turn,” he says as he adds a third finger.

Zayn groans, almost angrily, “Harry, _please_ —”

Harry keeps pushing, “Truth or dare?”

“Fucking _dare_!”

Harry leans in, giving Zayn a quick kiss, then whispers against his lips. “Ride me.”

Zayn slaps Harry’s arm away, making him withdraw his hand, then flips them over with surprising strength. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he says as he tries to tear off Harry’s jeans.

Harry laughs at his struggle for a moment before offering assistance, stripping off the last of his clothing. Wasting no time, Zayn snatches the condom up from the mattress and rolls it onto Harry.

Zayn straddles him then, bending down to lick into Harry’s mouth as he lines up. He pulls back to stare into Harry’s eyes as he sits, enveloping Harry in his heat. It's tight, and he feels like his eyes are about to pop out of his head. Zayn takes a second to adjust beforehand he starts to move. He grabs a fistful of Harry's hair and starts to pick up speed. 

Harry’s sounds are loud and wanton, they spur Zayn on. He puts a hand up against the wall for leverage, moving quicker, gasping with pleasure. Harry’s dizzy with the feeling of it all. His hands roam the bed, searching for something to grip, finally landing on Zayn’s hips.

The closer Zayn gets, the more erratic his movements become. Harry takes control, guiding his hips, angling him until he can hit the right spot inside him over and over. Zayn’s starting to get louder, and Harry uses a hand to stroke him, to bring him over the edge.

Zayn head falls back, panting as he comes, still tugging on his hair. Harry’s almost there. He holds Zayn’s hips still, pumping up into him before he follows, coming with a heavy groan, seeing stars behind his eyelids.

Zayn falls over to lie next to Harry, recovering. Their chests are heaving, sticky with sweat, too exhausted for clean up.

Harry turns his head to look over at Zayn. He’s lying still, eyes closed, messy and still impossibly gorgeous. Of all the things Harry thought this day would bring, this was nothing like what he expected. He can’t help but smile to himself.

“What are you thinking about?” Zayn asks, eyes still closed.

Harry licks his lips. “Just that this year is looking good so far.”

~ ~ ~

Sunlight from a window wakes Harry a few hours later. Zayn’s arm is around his waist, legs tangled together. Harry can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t see a clock anywhere, so he does his best to try not to wake Zayn as he gets out of bed and rustles through his clothes to find his phone. There’s a voicemail from Louis just after midnight.

_“You ditched us you lying shit! Whatever, me and Niall had a great time without you anyway. He asked me to move in! Officially! And guess what he’s getting me as a housewarming gift? A ferret! I think I’ll name it Jared. Or Jeff. Definitely something with a ‘J’. Anyway, call and check in so we know you’re not dead!”_

Harry groans, thinking of all the ferret shit he'll probably have to clean out of his shoes. He hears shuffling behind him.

“Why are you awake so early?” Zayn grumbles, clearly not a morning person.

Harry chuckles, sending off a quick check-in text to Louis. “It’s already after 11.”

“Still too early. Come back to bed.”

Harry obeys, letting Zayn wrap himself around him, nuzzling his face into Harry’s shoulder. They lay there for a few moments, Harry running a hand up and down Zayn’s bare back as his breath evens out.

Harry closes his eyes, breathing in Zayn's scent, wondering what would happen next. Harry likes Zayn but are these rebound feelings, or are they real? He can’t imagine that what he feels for Zayn could be anything but real. Will Zayn even want to see him after today?

Harry’s sure that Zayn’s asleep until he hears him whisper, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Do you want to have breakfast with me today?”

Harry smiles, he feels the anxiety from a moment ago melt away. It’s okay to not know what happens next, he decides. It’s okay to not see what’s coming. The very fact that he even got to meet Zayn is proof of that.

“I would like that very much.”

“Good,” says Zayn. He runs a hand down Harry’s side, fingers stroking the laurel tattoo on his hip. “And then after, I’d really like to lick these fucking leaves.”

Harry laughs and rolls over on top of him, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hi on [tumblr](http://noturhyna.tumblr.com)


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